


Knife to a Fist Fight

by Butyoucancallmemeg



Series: Ascendants [3]
Category: Descendants (Disney Movies)
Genre: Gen, Jay terrorizes some kids but only because they terrorize him first, Save The Cat moments, The pirates are the mob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2019-12-21
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:54:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21890002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Butyoucancallmemeg/pseuds/Butyoucancallmemeg
Summary: Jay gets ambushed. He knows exactly who's to blame.(Gratuitous Jay Badassery)
Series: Ascendants [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1375066
Comments: 2
Kudos: 64





	Knife to a Fist Fight

There are no streetlights on the Isle. The darkness gets thick, when the sun goes down, a syrupy sort of dark that hides all manner of sins. Sometimes, tendrils of light will leak from the windows of folks smart enough to stay indoors - but mostly, you have to stay sharp, or risk missing the knife that kills you. 

Wetness glints on the corner of Jay’s mouth, on his knuckles in the dimness. Shutters slice what thin light there is into strips, making the whole scene feel abstract, unreal. 

Thick drops of blood fly off the knife in his hand as he flips his grip. It’s a little too big, and poorly weighted, but he wasn’t the one to bring a knife to a fistfight. Luck and quick hands are the only reason he’s got it now. Chest heaving, Jay bares bloody teeth at his attackers. The light cuts his face in half, one eye shining sharp and dangerous. He makes a pretty good target right now, but that’s the idea. 

The youngest of them is eight, freckled, and stupid as hell. He launches himself off a wall knuckles-first, messy and slow with exertion. Jay catches a flying fist in his offhand, twists, and has the whole kid under one arm in half a breath, one hand pinned along his side. Two more weren’t far behind, but Jay kicks out with his wounded leg and knocks them to the ground. The kid lets out a snarl. 

He flips the knife again, to catch the light. 

He’s bleeding from his side, caught offguard by the knife and the attack, but now that he’s the one brandishing it, the tide has turned his way. And, he’s got a hostage. 

“Freeze.” He says, before the rest of them can get any bright ideas, and brings the knife nice and close to the kid’s snarling face, to show just how serious he is. There’s got to be around ten of them, plus the one he’s holding like a football. A couple have bandanas - Pirates.

He’s going to stab Harry Hook. Probably in the face. _Probably_ with the very knife that got him in the leg five minutes ago.

They’re lined up in a nice neat row now, scrawny and dirt-covered and starving. Twelve kids, none of them even close to his age, and they jumped him in an alley. They’re lucky Hook picked him as a mark, or the lot of them would be dead in the street just for having the guts to _try._

“Here’s how this is gonna go,” Jay says sharply, gesturing to all of them with the knife. Someone gulps.

“If you’re under twelve, leave now, or I’ll kick your ass from here to Tuesday morning. You don’t have to go home, but get the _fuck_ out of my sight.” 

It’s been a long damn night. Carlos will be pissed he got himself shanked - by a baby, no less. 

For a second, they all gawk at him, and he doesn’t have the patience for this. He feints toward them, like he’s about to start cutting, and they skitter back like frightened cats. Roughly, he drops the kid.

“Last chance,” He warns, and that gets them moving.

Three are left when the dust settles, and even they can’t be more than thirteen.

The girl in the middle is the only one who seems to be retaining her cool, so it’s her he points to when he asks the quesiton he already knows the answer to.

“Who sent you?” 

She crosses her arms, giving him her best pirate scowl.

“Cut the shit,” He commands sharply, “and don’t cross your arms. I have a knife,” he wiggles it in a demonstrative fashion, “so your hands should be ready to block.” He fakes her out, coming at her from above in a big telegraphed arc. She flinches.

When he leans back, raising his eyebrows at her, she uncrosses her arms with a huff. She’s thirteen at the oldest, but she’s short - hard not to be; hunger stunts growth. 

“Was it Harry or Uma?” He asks, and she glowers. 

“It was Hook.” The boy to her left admits softly. He’s restless. Good. 

Jay gestures with the point of the knife to the kid, “That wasn’t so hard, was it?” He grimaces when the kid withers under the attention. The knife flips, then slides neatly into his belt. 

“Consider yourselves threatened and get out of here, I don’t have time for this. Tell ‘em both they succeeded in their goal of pissing me the hell off.”

He makes to stomp off, then stops. Turns.

“And you -” he points to the girl in the middle, who juts out her chin. _We get it, kid, you’re a badass,_ Jay suppresses an eyeroll.

“Tell the little one to put his thumb on the outside of his fist.” 

As he goes, he throws his hands up. “Fuckin amateurs,” He mutters, and heads for Evie. She’ll be pissed, but she’ll stitch him up neater than he can himself. 

\--

No one ducks when the knife sails through Uma’s pub. There’s a cloth tied to the handle, dark red, but it flies straight anyways, embedding itself in the wall behind the bar with a dull thunk. There’s still blood on the blade, but flying cutlery is really more ambience at Uma’s than anything else. 

When Jay strolls in after it, hands in his pockets - that’s when people start to take notice. Patrons look up, and chatter slows as he lifts his chin, surveys the crowd. He’s head to toe in leather, hat pulled low over his forehead, standing solid as a rock. Leather’s a commodity on the isle - thick for warmth, sturdy for protection, and he wears it like an armor and a status symbol. It says, don’t fuck with me. 

He hardly raises his voice to speak. 

“Hook.” 

For a second, he waits. Patrons avert their eyes. No one’s mastered the art of minding their business like citizens of the Isle - and no one wants to get caught being a rat. 

He’s here, Jay knows. He’s in the back, with Uma, trying to prove something by making Jay wait. Jay doesn’t have time for this.

He nabs a couple fries off a plate, makes a show of eating them. Uma’s crew make their living boarding the barges before they hit the docks to get first pick of the lot. They’ve cornered the market on potatoes, too, and made sure no one dares to fish in their waters. Jay may be in a gang, but the pirates are the Mob. Hearty food, moonshine, and a modicum of protection is every street kid’s dream.

And, apparently, they’re taking applications. 

He waits another beat, then crosses the room, vaults the bar, and hopes to hell his stitches haven’t popped beneath his coat. There’s a kid behind the bar, probably around eleven, who’s stopped in the middle of stacking plates to watch the show. Excellent. Jay snatches her by the collar, drawing her up so they’re nose to nose. 

“Where’s Harry Hook?” 

The kid thumbs wordlessly over her shoulder, eyes nearly as big as the dinner plates she’s busing. He’d figured as much. She’s trembling. Sighing, he puts her down gently enough that she doesn’t stumble, and points one finger toward the galley. 

“Fetch,” he tells her, and it doesn’t take much heat in his voice to send her scrambling away to do exactly that. 

Harry emerges, brandishing that stupid hook, a smirk on his face. 

“Sending kids to do your dirty work now, Jay?” Harry teases. Without looking away, Jay frees the knife from the wall, brandishing it loosely. 

“An eight year old tried to knife me last night because he wanted to be a _pirate_ ,” the word twists his mouth like sour milk. He points the knife at Harry, closes the distance between them. 

“Are you - “ he pokes, and the tip of the knife presses a mark into Harry’s vest, “ _really_ in a position to pass that judgment?” 

Harry’s smirk widens into a full-on grin. “Well, I’m sure I don’t know why he’d think that.”

Jay’s heard this song and dance before, and frankly, he’s tired of it. 

“You’re sending them to me because you think I won’t kill ‘em.” Jay says, “And ‘cause usually none of them are stupid enough to try knifing me in the leg.”

“Way I hear it, he did a little more than just _try_ , Jayboy.” Harry reaches out his hook, makes to poke Jay back, but he’s faster. A flick of the knife catches the hook right in its bend, and he twists it out of Harry’s grasp. It clatters to the ground. Jay kicks it behind him. The clatter of metal on stone is almost as gratifying as the way Harry’s grin dies on his face. 

“Come for me or my crew again, and I’ll cut off your hand and eat it my damn self.” Jay snarls, “No Croc required.” 

That one hits the mark, and Harry’s face drains of color. It’s enough distraction for Jay to step into his space. He leans in close, brings the knife right up to Harry’s bare neck.

“You’re lucky I know you don’t wear the pants, Hook,” Jay murmurs, “or this would be over already.”

Harry gets a hand square on Jay’s chest and shoves. Jay lets the momentum carry him out of Hook’s space, but doesn’t stumble. 

“Big talk,” Harry quips. His eyes are dark now, though, and his sense of humor appears to have jumped ship around the same time his hook did.

“I don’t see you threatening Uma with all of this,” Harry points out, and flicks his brows up like he thinks he’s caught Jay out. Jay gives a dry laugh, looks Harry up and down assessingly. He smirks.

“I just did.”

He kicks the hook back in Harry’s direction as he leaves, and doesn’t look back. 

“I’ll tell her you said so,” Harry calls to his retreating back, “I’m sure she’ll be _charmed_.” 

Jay flips him off over a shoulder. “Looking forward to it.” 

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Save the Cat moments are really integral to Jay's nature, I feel. catch me on tumblr at thebitchriarchy.tumblr.com and peep the pinterest board for this verse at https://www.pinterest.com/youcancallmemeg/verse-ascendants/


End file.
